


Crushed on the Tube

by gingergallifreyan



Series: Gerald x Betty [4]
Category: A Passionate Woman (TV), The Last September (1999)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, F/M, Meet-Cute, Teninch
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-01-17
Updated: 2018-01-17
Packaged: 2019-03-05 21:47:18
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 720
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13396896
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/gingergallifreyan/pseuds/gingergallifreyan
Summary: Gerald is bored in his life as a traffic warden. Little does he know how his life is about to change on a crowded tube car.





	Crushed on the Tube

**Author's Note:**

  * For [KTRose](https://archiveofourown.org/users/KTRose/gifts).



> For KTRose, who prompted: being crushed together on the tube.
> 
> For modern!AU purposes, I'm picturing Gerald as the [Traffic Warden](http://tennantnews.blogspot.com/2015/08/throwback-thursday-traffic-warden-with.html) in David's little short film he did called Traffic Warden. He'd have some sort of service position like that. (It's cute! Watch it!!)
> 
> I'm using [this photo](https://laurapeatman.files.wordpress.com/2014/07/billie-piper.jpg) as a visual for modern!Betty. No Donald/Mark/Craze.

Every day, Gerald rode the tube to his job as a traffic warden. Hopped on the same car if he could, rode seven stops, and hopped back off. He considered it mundane. No, rather, it was safe, comfortable, routine, he told himself, as comforting as the voice piping over the speakers at every stop. _Mind the gap between the train and the platform._

Aw, who was he kidding? As comforting as that admonishment was, while he was meticulous about how he kept his flat, while order and rules were a necessity to him, he needed something… different. Surprising. Unexpected. Exciting. Nothing wrong with a little fun now and again. A hobby, maybe?

Gerald never paid attention to the people around him on his daily commute. His legs were extra long, so he generally stood in the corner. This particular morning’s foot traffic was heavy, which left the car with very little standing room. A body pressed against his side and he heard someone softly utter, “Sorry.”

He glanced at the woman to whom the voice belonged and did a double take.

She was beautiful. Brunette, hair layered and gently curled. Amber eyes, rounded nose, full lips, slightly parted. Devastatingly beautiful. She blushed under his scrutiny and looked away.

Part of him died. “I-it’s alright,” he stammered.

Her mobile seemed to occupy her attention.

He panicked, frozen until she left the car. He’d ridden past his stop by three stations and cursed under his breath as he made his way to the other side of the platform.

\--

He prayed to whomever would listen that she’d be on the tube again the next day.

She was, but she managed to snag a seat, rather than stand in the corner next to him. She did, however, check him out before putting in her ear plugs.

He made an effort not to miss his stop again. He wished he were brave enough to speak to her.

\--

“What’s got you?” Ian Daventry, his mate, prompted at the pub that night.

Gerald sipped his beer. “Nothing.”

“It’s not nothing. You’re quiet, but not like this. A woman?”

He sighed.

“When did you meet a woman, Gerald?”

“I haven’t really met her.”

“But you want to.”

“I saw her on the tube.”

“Ah.” His friend nodded in sympathy. “Good luck with that.”

\--

To his surprise, she rode on the same tube for the next week. And, he noticed, would watch him for a little bit longer each day. He had the nerve to smile at her lightly on Wednesday. Was he crazy, or did she smile back at him for a second which felt like an eternity?

On Thursday, another woman rode with her, blonde. That woman gave him the once over and whispered to her companion. What was that about?

On Friday, she stepped into the car… and stood next to him.

He somehow managed to speak for how hard his heart pounded after a few moments. “Ehm… hi.”

“'lo,” she answered.

“I’m Gerald.”

“Betty.”

“I only have a few more stops. Can I get your number or something? I’d love to take you out sometime.”

“Yes.” She dug in her purse for a slip of paper and held it out.

He failed to produce any coherent thought. She’d… already written her number for him. “Thank you.” He stared at it. “I’ll call you later? Is tonight alright?”

“That’d be great.” She smiled.

His cheeks and ears were warm as he shoved the paper in his pocket. “So where do you go every day?”

“I work in a florist shop.”

“Oh, that’s lovely!”

“Yeah, I like to garden.”

The speakers called out the next station. “That’s mine.”

“What do you do?”

“I’m a traffic warden. Far less glamorous than a florist.”

“Guess I won’t have to worry about a ticket since I take the tube.”

He inhaled. “No, but I could have you arrested.”

Her eyes widened. “Why?”

“For being so beautiful. You could kill a man with those looks.”

She laughed. “That was awful.”

He blushed even deeper. “Sorry.”

“Don’t apologize. Call me.”

The sun may not have been shining as he stepped out of the Underground, but he didn't even notice. Perhaps it was her bright yellow blouse? He couldn't chase away the hope that his life was about to change for the better.

**Author's Note:**

> It did.


End file.
